Mother Knows Best
by RochelleRene
Summary: House chooses Cuddy.  Will she choose him back?  A post 7X14 reboot.  Love, banter, sex... My usual.
1. Chapter 1

**So this one goes out to Oc7ober, who gave me the idea to do a post-"Recession Proof" (7X14) fic. The one where House says "I choose you," but then TPTB destroyed us the following week? So this is my reboot.**

**Thanks Oc7ober for the idea and for bullying me into writing it. Everybody's requests for my fics are so kind, and I wish I could write all the time. Unfortunately, a dissertation and two kids have slowed me down.**

**I don't own "House" or any of its creative content. Hugh Laurie, however, is chained in my basement. Hence the lack of time to write… And the second kid. ;)**

**Chapter 1**

The pounding between his temples and nasty coating in his mouth reminded House immediately of his lonely evening, his disappointing Cuddy, and his inebriated midnight speech. Pretty awful. On the other hand, her long legs between his knees and the smell of her all over his skin reminded him of the sex they'd had between said speech and his full-on pass out. Pretty amazing.

At least he thought he'd been amazing… Hmmm…He felt his head pound again. Highly unlikely.

This would be tricky.

He turned to see her eyes fluttering open reluctantly. "Mornin'," he said with a croak. "I'd kiss you passionately, but I don't think you'd ever recover… In a bad way."

Cuddy opened one eye and smirked before disentangling and rolling off of him and off the bed, padding to the bathroom. House listened to the sound of running water and toothbrushing. He wracked his brain.

_Worse doctor. People will die. I choose you. Will always… Vagina._

Oh boy. The words were floating through his brain like a movie he had watched while drunk. What he couldn't recollect, even murkily, was Cuddy's reaction. He couldn't picture her face – not an arched brow or a half smile – and he wasn't sure she'd said a thing. But they were here naked together. It couldn't have gone too badly.

Cuddy padded out of the bathroom, past the bed, and out the door.

Could it?

**[H] [H] [H]**

House came up behind her in the kitchen, sliding his hands around her hips, draped with satin. She shrugged him off.

"What? I can't help it if all I can think about is your ass," he murmured in her ear.

"Jesus, House!" Cuddy scolded, gesturing toward the kitchen table where Rachel sat coloring and eating breakfast.

"Oh, come on, Cuddy. She didn't hear me. And she even doesn't know what that means," he defended himself.

"Tell that to her preschool teacher who told me she's repeating it," Cuddy chided. She sighed, then continued her morning bustling.

House walked over to the kitchen table and dropped into a chair. He glanced at Rachel, who sat eating raisins and drawing happy faces. "Hey," he mumbled before resting his forehead in his hand.

"Hey," Rachel replied, studying him with a smirk.

Cuddy approached, set Rachel's cereal down, and cleared her throat. "I have to go shower," she told them both. She stalked out.

Rachel continued coloring, moving the crayons to a spot between her and House in an offering to share.

"You done with the Cheerios?" House asked her. She nodded. House reached over for her bowl and started eating them. "I don't even know what she's mad about," he said with his mouth full.

Rachel thought as she ate raisins and colored, then offered, "Maybe it's something you shoulda known better."

House looked at her. She smiled a toothy smile at him with a raisin stuck in her teeth.

"Probably," he agreed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"The patient is exhibiting signs of an autoimmune disorder affecting her digestive tract" Chase told House as he walked into his office and began dumping his stuff. 

"I wasn't aware we _had_ a patient," House replied.

"We do. She's sick."

"Oh, she's _sick_!" House cried. "Bummer! I always like those patients who are so nice and healthy."

Chase ignored him. "I mean she's _really_ sick," he continued. "Her mother is near hysteria. She's passed at least a kidney stone per day for the last ten days…

"Plus she has horrible stomach pain" chimed in Taub, entering the office.

"Of course she has horrible stomach pain," House chided. "On account of the _stones_."

"I mean outside of that," Taub defended. "It hurts when she eats."

"Of course it hurts when she eats," House chided again. "On account of the _ulcers_." He took a file folder out of his backpack, then threw the bag under his desk. They looked at him. "She's hypercalcaemic,, morons… Why do I even pay you guys?"

There was a beat of silence while that proclamation sunk in.

"So now we need to know _why_ she's hypercalcaemic," Chase said.

"Oh yeah…_That's_ why I pay you guys," House said, as he walked right back out the door, the file folder under his arm.

**[H] [H] [H]**

House walked into Cuddy's office and flopped onto her couch. She barely looked up. "Sorry, I don't have time for your psychoanalysis today," she said, shuffling papers.

He started dropping sheaves of paper onto the floor. _Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. _They landed in a fan.

"Eleven," he proclaimed, staring at her.

Cuddy licked her lips. "Your counting skills _have_ dramatically improved, House, but the fanfare's a bit much, don't you think?"

"Those studies all conclude that children who witness affectionate acts between their parents are more secure, happy, and have better relationships with each parent," House stated triumphantly. "Now I know I'm not exactly a parent in our little scenario –"

"Nor does grinding up against my ass constitute an affectionate act!" Cuddy pointed out.

House paused, then sat up. "It doesn't?" Cuddy gave him her _Come on! _look. "How is it categorized, if not as affection?" he challenged.

"Dammit, House! As usual you're totally missing the big point because of your ridiculous obsession with some minute detail."

"Not true. I know that your big point is not scandalizing Rachel, so I am showing you that a little 'patty cake' doesn't scandalize her."

Cuddy stared at him.

"'Patty cake?'" She was agog.

"'Rub a dub dub?' I'm trying to use child-friendly terms here, Cuddy."

"House, the kitchen molestation is just one part of it. There are a lot of ways that I feel like my relationship with you has taken away from my relationship with Rachel," she explained.

"Don't put it that way, Cuddy. Nothing about _us_ is taking away from Rachel. It's just taking away from your bizarre perfectionistic image of what a mother needs to be. Your standards are too high."

"Oh, so I should embrace your standards? Children should be 'fed, not dead, and in bed?'" House smirked in spite of himself... He was so damn _funny_ sometimes. Cuddy noted it. "Excuse me if I strive for something higher," she said haughtily.

"Look, you're allowed to want to be the best mother, just like you've always wanted to be the best everything. I just don't see how our relationship factors into this."

"I _can't_ be the best everything, House," Cuddy admitted. "I can't stay up half the night 'rub-a-dub-dub-ing' you and be alert and present for her the next day, during the little time we have. I can't cater to your every whim about how to spend our time and still be sure she is getting the activities and attention she needs. I can't wait up for you, run out to meet you, sleep at your place, and in general allow you to be my daily compass." Cuddy realized she was unloading months of worry and conflicted feelings all at once.

She continued. "I revolve things around you in our relationship because, well, that's our relationship. At work, I structure things just so to keep you happy and to get what I want. And when we started out, you were in an incredibly vulnerable place, so I felt the need to treat you carefully. But now, House…" She tried to gather her thoughts. "It's like you said last night – you had to choose. I already chose you over being the best hospital administrator years ago. And I chose Rachel over being the best administrator. Well, I love you, but I'm sorry to say that when it comes to choosing Rachel or you, I choose Rachel." She looked right in his eyes, but couldn't read him. "And I will always choose Rachel."

House blinked. Cuddy blinked right back.

Suddenly Chase and Taub entered. "Patient's in a coma. But some tests came back. It's ATL," Chase informed him. "She needs a bone marrow transplant."

House continued staring at Cuddy. "Time for Mommy to do what mommies do," he replied, more to her than to them. He stood and walked out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Taub was walking quickly down the hall with House, towards the patient's room. He was explaining that the mother was irate, and thus refusing to pursue any other options for a marrow transplant, such as her estranged ex-husband.

"How on Earth can I not be a match!" the patient's mother shouted, when House entered. "She's my _daughter_! I gave _birth_ to her!"

"You did," House replied condescendingly, pacing to the corner of the room and fiddling with his cane. "You just didn't give your _DNA_ to her."

"I just cannot understand this!" she shouted.

"You don't need to understand it!" House shouted back. "You just need to let us do our job!" She glared at him. Cuddy entered, and from her face he could tell she'd heard the shouting. House calmed his tone and explained, "Look, you don't understand how the aspirin you take works, but when your head is pounding you swallow it. You don't understand how the water that comes out of the faucet is cleaned from all the shit and bacteria, but you drink it." The mother stared at him, looking dazed. "Even some of the smartest doctors in the world don't understand how a mother passes on different DNA to a child, but in a handful of cases it has happened," he stated clearly, "Whether we understand it or not." He looked at the audience. "I mean _I_ understand it, but… You get my point." Cuddy shook her head in disgust.

"Mrs. Murphy," she said gently, "It is a medical phenomenon. It is not something we want to waste our precious time deciphering right now," she pleaded. "I know you love your daughter." Mrs. Murphy nodded. "And your job as her mom right now is to do everything you can to get her well." She nodded again. "Now if you give us permission to contact your ex-husband, we can do this without either you or your daughter even coming into contact with him."

Everyone waited.

"I can call him," Mrs. Murphy offered. "I want him to say yes… I'll call him."

"Whatever you like," Cuddy said. She squeezed the woman's shoulder, glanced at the team, and said, "Let's give her a few minutes." Taub and Chase breezed out. Then Cuddy and House stepped into the hall.

"Thank you," he said sheepishly, looking at the floor. He didn't like needing help. "I hate it when my patients fall into comas," he said. Cuddy nodded sympathetically. "Then I have to deal with their idiotic relatives." Cuddy stopped looking sympathetic.

"House, she's not an idiot. This case is one in a billion! She's upset."

"She's upset her daughter's dying and meanwhile she's holding up the process we have for saving her because of denial and some lover's tiff that's ancient history!" House shouted again. "It's illogical," he said more softly.

"It's not that easy to call her ex back into their lives. It's not that easy to do anything! She found out an hour ago that her DNA doesn't match her daughter's," Cuddy reminded him. "That makes her question everything… Is she technically her mother? Does she even know what she thinks she knows? Does she know her daughter? Does her daughter know her?" Cuddy was rambling, and stopped abruptly. She sighed, gaining her composure. "She just wants to feel like her mom… Like a good mom."

House looked at her. "Thanks again," he mumbled and turned on his heel to limp away. 

**[H] [H] [H]**

Cuddy walked into the differential room and found House and Rachel seated at the table. Wilson stood between two white boards, one with _House _scrawled across the top and one with _Rachel_ printed neatly. The team sat in the wings, watching while pretending to study patent files. "Okay, what's this?" she sighed.

"Hi, Mommy!" Rachel called.

"She's supposed to be in school! House, she can't miss school for one of your little stunts –" She was just riling herself up when House stood, walked over, and pushed her gently on the shoulders to get her into a chair.

"Relax," he replied. "I'll take her back in 15 minutes. You'll log some extra glue-eating time tonight and she'll be all caught up."

"How'd you even get her?" Cuddy continued. "You don't have a car seat. If you drove her around with no car seat I swear to GOD I will – "

"Relax," House repeated, his voice sounding like a hypnotist. "I stole your keys," he crooned. "She was safe as can be."

Cuddy sighed. "Honestly, does anyone even watch who goes into my office?"

"Not when donuts are delivered to the nurses' station," House told her, returning to his seat.

"Dr Lisa Cuddy!" Wilson sang out suddenly, and so loudly that everyone jumped. "Welcome to _The Newishly-dating slash Oldymom Game_!"

He paused.

"The what?" Cuddy inquired.

"Please don't make me say it again," Wilson begged. "It's like _The Newlywed Game_, but with House and Rachel instead of your new husband."

"What new husband?"

"On the show… They go on with the husbands and have to guess each other's cards." Wilson explained. "You've never heard of it?" he asked incredulously. Cuddy shook her head. "Oh my. Oh! Well there was this hilarious one where they asked about the strangest place they had ever made whoopee –"

"Wilson!" House barked. "Get one with it."

Wilson nodded. "YouTube it," he told Cuddy as an aside. She blinked."Okay so, Dr. Cuddy. You'll be asked to fill in the blank for cards associated with House and Rachel. We'll tally which person you know best to determine whom you should feel guilty about neglecting!" he cried in a game show host voice. Cuddy rolled her eyes. House gave a _Let's get on with it_ gesture with his hands. He knew he had to keep the momentum going or Cuddy would bail.

"Alright, question number one," Wilson held up a large card and read it. "Rachel drives you crazy when she…"

There was a pregnant pause while Cuddy figured out this game and then thought about the answer. "Doesn't pick up her stuff from the kitchen floor?" she offered tentatively.

"Ding ding ding ding ding!" Wilson cheered, way too into this. He flipped over the card and it read "Leaves her toys on the kitchen floor." He put a hash mark on the _Rachel _white board.

"Okay, next." Wilson grabbed the next card."House drives you crazy when he…"

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on!" she protested. "This could be anything!"

"Ding ding ding ding ding!" Wilson was almost orgasmic with glee over this. He flipped the card over and it read "Does anything." The snickers from the peanut gallery in the back could not be stifled.

Wilson was doubled over laughing when House poked him in the ribs with his cane. "Let's stay focused, Pat Sajak."

"Right, okay." Wilson recovered and put a point down for House. "Next card. Rachel thinks you cook delicious…"

Cuddy rolled her eyes again. A cook, she was not. "Hot dogs," she answered, since that was pretty much all she attempted for her daughter.

"Yes!" Wilson cheered. He was ecstatic. "Next. House thinks you cook delicious…"

Cuddy sighed heavily. House always said that the only thing she should be allowed to cook is… "Microwave popcorn," she answered, much to Wilson's delight.

"It's neck and neck here, folks," Wilson stated to no one in particular.

"Are you a game show host, a sports commentator, or a douchbag?" House inquired.

"What's a douchbag?" Rachel asked.

"It's nothing, honey. I'll explain it later," Cuddy said quickly. She glared at House. "Next question," she barked at Wilson, wanting to get this stupid thing over with and get Rachel back to school.

"Rachel thinks you have the prettiest…" Wilson read.

"Hair," Cuddy answered without hesitation. Rachel loved her hair and always told her so. The card was flipped to confirm.

Wilson continued. "House thinks you have the prettiest…" Oh, Jesus. She knew what he'd say. She just knew it. And now she was supposed to say this in front of everyone? In front of her _daughter_? She couldn't do it.

"Smile," she said, without a hint of one. She met his eyes and he grimaced in disgust.

"Give me a break, Cuddy!" he said in exasperation.

"Come _on_, Mama!" Rachel chimed in. Cuddy looked at her.

"What? He does think I have a pretty smile.

"Mama, he thinks you have a pretty ass!" she cried.

The silence in that room made her ears ring. She could feel the energy of people trying not to laugh, especially a certain bearded cripple sitting three feet from her. Wilson bit his lip with nervousness then slowly flipped the card to reveal the word _ass_ in black permanent marker.

"Rachel is now in the lead, folks," Wilson informed the room.

"Which means _I_ am in the lead for who is being neglected," House pointed out with an exaggerated pout.

"House, she's four. She's my daughter. You're ridiculous," Cuddy retorted.

"All true. All unrelated."

"Next question!" Wilson interrupted. "You help Rachel get dressed by…"

Cuddy thought of their morning routine and how Rachel scampered out of her room every morning because she needed help "Buttoning her pants!" Cuddy was getting into this.

"Ding ding ding – ow!" Wilson's celebration was cut short by another cane to the ribs.

"Okay, so. You help House get – "

"_Sometimes_!" House emphasized. He looked embarrassed… _House_ looked _embarrassed._

"Right. Sorry." Wilson cleared his throat. "You _sometimes_ help House get dressed by…"

Cuddy was stumped. Helping House get dressed? This sounded like a backwards sexual thing that was another attempt to embarrass her. She looked at him and ran her eyes from top to bottom, trying to think of what this could be. She saw his rumpled shirt, his baggy jeans, and then that Nike _swoosh_. She had it. In a respectfully quiet voice she said, "Tying his shoes."

No one laughed. Everyone had seen, at one time or another, House grimace when he had to bend to his shoe or the floor for some reason. In fact, this moment was embarrassing because of its intimacy. People in love do all kinds of things for each other that only they know about. What confused Cuddy was, why did he give that answer if he was embarrassed? Why even pick the question?

Wilson helped to move things along. "Rachel's favorite thing that you do on Saturdays is…" Cuddy knew this of course. On Saturdays she let Rachel watch TV and eat junk food in the evening. She said as much, delighting Wilson.

"Wilson, if you don't stop that 'dinging' I'm gonna throw you off the balcony!" House shouted. "You're the host, not the buzzer."

Wilson gave House a defiant, smug smirk. He knew when he was needed. "Moving on to the final question," he deflected. He looked right at House when he gave a dramatic, "Dunh dunh dunh!" for dramatic effect. "Cuddy, House's favorite thing that you do on Saturdays is…"

Her fear caught her by the throat. He wouldn't… It's _House_… But he _couldn't_… He'd _love_ it… But she'd just _die_… But it's just so _good…_

She looked at him. He was reading her mind and smirking. The air hung heavy with anticipation. House gave the slightest shake of his head and winked at her. Oh, good God, thank you. Now she had to think about what the alternative answer would be. Saturdays… Saturdays… oh!

"I let him watch TV and eat junk food!" she shouted.

"Correct!" Wilson shouted. People politely applauded at the climax of this ridiculous game. "But that's not all folks!" Wilson continued, getting ever more energetic in his role. "Dr. Cuddy, in a clever twist of game show magic –"

"'Game show magic?'" House asked.

"Yes," Wilson said. "People say that."

"Who says that, Wilson?" House asked.

"Game show hosts."

House nodded sarcastically. How did he even _gesture_ sarcastically?

"Anyway, Cuddy," Wilson recovered. "House and Rachel wrote _each other's_ cards."

Cuddy didn't react, not really getting it, which disappointed Wilson.

"Cuddy, you see… They knew what each other's answers would be… And you knew the answers… Everybody's knowing everything!" Wilson proclaimed.

"Is it over?" Rachel asked. She looked at the white boards with concentration. "I have more points. I win!" she exclaimed.

"Yeah, big deal," House replied, leaning toward her over the table. "If I was cute and whined more, I'd have won." He stuck his tongue out at her.

"You whine plenty," she replied, sticking her tongue out at him. This made House break into an all out smile. "You gotta love this kid," he said, leaning back in his chair and talking to no one in particular.

Cuddy watched them, teasing and mimicking each other. She thought about the little facts represented in the game, and Wilson's point about them knowing each other's answers. She saw House's point now. Her time with House was not taking away from her time with Rachel. In fact, it just made Rachel's circle of people – narcissistic and manipulative and sex-obsessed as they might be – bigger. She didn't have to choose.

Everyone was standing now, getting busy with the business of their days. Rachel had gone into the hallway and was making faces at Wilson through the glass. Cuddy walked out to her, buying time to think about what to say to House. She was just telling Rachel that it was too late to bother going back to school when House and Wilson ambled out. There was a palpable energy in the air.

"C'mon, Rachel. I'll show you where we put the dead people," Wilson coaxed, disappearing with the child, leaving the two of them to talk.

Cuddy stood facing House. "Very clever," she commented with an arched brow.

House blinked and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smirking too much. "How have you never heard of _The Newlywed Game_?"

Cuddy ignored him. "So I'll see you tonight?

House gave a grimace. "I'd _like _to," he began, "But you weren't wanting me over so much... So I made plans." He loved teasing her.

"With who?" she asked, pouting ever-so-slightly.

"Well, now, let's think about this, Holmes."

"Wilson," she concluded.

"Ding ding ding ding ding!" he said softly.

"Tell Wilson you have to cancel," she ordered. She took a step closer. "I'll make it worth your while," she sang quietly.

"Oh yeah?... I want specifics."

"I'll do what you _really _like about Saturdays."

House grinned a wolfish grin. "I dunno," he hesitated. "I'm pretty sure Wilson's up for that too. He calls it the _Bonus Round._" Cuddy rolled her eyes. "Oh, but wait. He's too uptight. He'd never do a Saturday thing on a Thursday." He smiled down at her.

"So I'll see you later?" she asked. He nodded. Cuddy stretched up slightly and kissed him lightly. He didn't move a muscle, determined to maintain his cool, aloof image - at least within hospital walls. She turned and strode happily toward the elevator, her perfect ass sashaying from side to side. She added a little extra pep to her step, knowing full well that House was watching the whole time. She turned in the elevator and saw him leaning his shoulder against the door. She couldn't help but beam back at his deadpan face. He met her eyes and just as the elevator doors were sliding shut he called, "You _do_ have a pretty smile."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

House and Cuddy were sitting on the couch watching _Beauty and the Beast_ for the fortieth time while Rachel alternated between watching, dancing around, and getting sleepy.

Cuddy gave him a sidelong look and said, "Sorry for kind of freaking out, by the way."

House never took his eyes of the television. He shrugged and ate a cheese puff. "That's like me saying 'Sorry for kind of being an asshole,'" he said between crunches. "It's just who you are, Cuddles… A classic freaker-outer." Cuddy didn't know whether to smile or pout. She sat there staring at Rachel. House could sense the issue was unresolved for her. "Look, I'm never gonna stop asking for what I want, Cuddy," he said returning the sideways glance, "Your time, your attention, your gluteus MAXimus… But I can take no for an answer. I know she needs you too."

Cuddy arched an eyebrow at him. This was too sensitive and reasonable. He ate another puff, looked at her and smiled. "What? I'll cajole you and hound you and possibly play a practical joke on you," he admitted, "But I know you. No one can _make_ you do anything." Crunch crunch. "And you always do what's right… Leaving me free to fantasize about the very very wrong."

Crunch crunch.

Cuddy had to get Rachel in bed, but as she got up off the couch she spun to straddle House briefly, meeting his eyes just as he was popping another puff. "Hold that very very wrong thought," she whispered.

Crunch.

**[H] [H] [H]**

Cuddy was putting Rachel to bed and House was brushing his teeth, courteous enough to de-cheese puff his mouth in response to her whispered promise. He heard her come in and shut the door. He heard her go into her closet. He heard the music come on. Hells yeah.

House practically somersaulted onto the bed, stretching out with his hands behind his head. He smiled unabashedly when he saw one long, black fishnet-encased Cuddy leg slide into the closet doorframe, followed seductively by a tousled Cuddy, dressed in lingerie beneath one of his wrinkled button-downs, her cheeks flushed with the slight embarrassment she felt at the beginning of every Saturday night.

She looked at him, at his total and complete delight, and like every week it pushed her from embarrassment into show-off. She had to admit that a tiny part of her – the part that didn't graduate as valedictorian or nail the MCAT or become the youngest Dean of Medicine – actually liked being totally and completely objectified by him. She felt powerful in a completely different way. She was turning the most unflappable man into mush.

She slowly unhooked each button of the shirt, alternating from top to bottom, looking up at him and biting her lip. She opened the shirt wide, He sucked his lips in and raised his brows. She closed it tightly around her again. He frowned and furrowed his brow. As predictable as a dog. Cuddy let the shirt slide off her shoulders and drop to the floor. She leaned her back against the doorway and slid slowly down, her knees spreading apart as she sank. House made an expression that was somewhere between pain and orgasm. Cuddy stood slowly and turned, moving her hips in a figure eight that did nothing but draw attention to her ass. She peered over her shoulder and saw his glazed eyes, a slight flush, and his arms folded tightly in an attempt to control his impulses.

She spun to face him again and kicked off each heel. She sank down on her knees and started crawling toward the bed. House eagerly slid off the bed and down to the floor to meet her, his bad leg sticking out awkwardly. She put her nose right to his.

"I love Saturdays on Thursdays," he murmured.

"You get it again in just 2 more days," she purred back, straddling his lap.

"I know," he growled in her ear." But this is a tough act to follow. I hope Wilson's rehearsing." Cuddy smacked him, then leaned back into his hands that were cradling her back as he nuzzled her hair.

House slid one hand down the smoothness of her back. He took his other hand and swept her hair to one side, pressing his mouth against her skin, kissing from the cap of her shoulder inwards to her neck. He maneuvered her bra hook with one hand, eased the strap off her other shoulder, and cupped her breast as the garment fell between them. Cuddy felt a hot coil start to form low in her belly. She knew all she wanted right then and started undressing him as quickly as she could, fumbling with buttons and t-shirt neck holes and his big uncooperative noggin. He grinned at her as his face came into view again. "Cuddy, that was pretty clumsy for a stripper," he teased.

She looked at him under half-closed lids as he laid her back on the floor, moving on top of her. "I guess I need to go back to stripper school," she admitted.

House wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "Nah," he reassured her, "You just need a good tutor. And practice. A lot of practice." He slid her panties slowly down her long legs, leaving the thigh-highs untouched. There is was again – that powerful feeling. She saw him take in the length of her legs and his mouth fell open a tiny bit. His breath was heaving his chest a little, and he actually almost slurred a little when he spoke.

She intoxicated him.

House lay back down on her and slid his hands beneath her body, pulling her up against him. He felt a deep tremble in her ribcage, like a bird trying to escape. Her breath was shaky and fitful. He felt her smoothness against his bare chest and stomach.

Cuddy felt like her head might explode. She couldn't get enough oxygen. House continued to run his tongue slowly up and down her neck, and she felt his fingers slip inside of her. She couldn't hold back the whimper and she immediately felt his teeth against her neck as his kiss broke into a smile.

"What?" she gasped, her head thrown back and her pelvis grinding against his hand.

House nuzzled her cheek than began kissing down her chest and belly, his fingers still doing magic. "You're just crazy. And sexy. And fun. And retarded… And I just like it."

Suddenly she felt his mouth against her heat and she lifted her head just to bang it on the floor again, a few times over. House felt her thighs tensing. She was moving her feet back and forth, trying to cope with the tension building in her body.

"Why am I… crazy… and retarded?" she puffed out.

House couldn't get over the neuroses of this woman. Here on the brink of orgasm she still had to analyze and be defensive and make her case. He paused a half second to utter, "Because we're having a _conversation _right now." Cuddy nodded, getting it, and put her hands to his head in impatient encouragement.

House refocused and Cuddy felt the heat of his mouth against her again. Her face was contorting into a look of tension that mirrored what she felt in her pelvis. His hands on her hips, his lips against her, his tongue moving that perfect way… She was overcome. She arched back, feeling this bizarre urge to get away from the source of such intense pleasure, but House held her hips and kept her to him and she writhed and pulled his hair and screamed and bit her lip to keep from screaming and lifted her feet straight up and slammed them back down and in general lost all sense of the world and her orientation in it.

When it had passed she lay like a rag doll, limbs akimbo on the floor. House had his head on her thigh and was drawing things on her belly. She slowly came to her senses and then realized they were letters. R… E… T… A… She smacked his head lightly. "I'm not retarded," she said, not even giving a shit if she was. "And anyway, the politically correct term is 'cognitively impaired,'" she breathed.

C… O… She smacked him again.

"The abuse," he tsked. He stood up with a groan and looked down at Cuddy. "Get up," he said, holding his hand down toward her.

Cuddy didn't want to be roused from her post-orgasm flop, but she reluctantly reached up to his hand, grumbling, "You don't have to be so bossy."

House pulled her up and roughly pressed her against him. "So sorry," he murmured. "Ms. Cuddy, would you please stand up so I can properly fuck you?" He kissed her long, deep, and slow.

Cuddy alternated which knee went weak, and realizing he still had his pants on she went to work on his zipper. "Take your pants off," she gasped into his neck.

"Now who's being bossy…" House began, but he lost all sense of banter as Cuddy crouched to slide his pants off and he felt her mouth all around him. He couldn't hear. He couldn't breathe. The blood had all rushed away from those body parts in a whoosh that had him numb from the waist up. His head lolled back and to the side and he had to brace himself with one hand on the bed.

After a minute or two, Cuddy stood and faced him. "So sorry," she said. "Mr. House, would you please take your pants off?" She watched as his eyeballs returned to their rightful places and he had regained enough composure to speak.

House sighed. "So, you're just down there thinking up clever retorts?"

Cuddy smiled and nodded sassily. House shoved her gently and she fell back onto the bed. He slid his hands along her thighs and pulled her down to the edge. She looked at him, looking at her. She'd honestly never seen him look at anyone, or anything, that way.

House saw her skin, glowing with a slight sheen to it. He saw her lash-framed eyes, her lips swollen form the kissing. He saw the curve of every muscle. And he saw her hands clench around blankets as he pushed inside her. Cuddy wrapped her legs around his torso, letting him go deeper. She felt his back muscles against her calves. She felt him shift his weight to his good leg.

He slid his hands under her ass and lifted, making them both inhale with the pleasure of it all. Cuddy scooted further and wove her legs, still in fishnets, past his arms to lay them along his shoulders. House turned and kissed an ankle. Cuddy cried, "Mjfuioweujnbfbcbn," and her body was not her own anymore. It was a trembling, bucking, twisting home for a mind that was so completely obsessed with this man it scared her. Scared her into trying to get rid of him to feel like she had some control over her life again.

House was disappointed. He'd had at least two more positions in his head ,but she had to go and put her gorgeous legs up like that and be all orgasmic beneath him. I mean, come _on_. A man can only hold out so long. He put his palms on the bed and tried not to fall as his body was wracked with waves of pleasure. He couldn't stop himself. But it wasn't the fishnets, or the whimpers, or her tongue pressed along her top teeth. It wasn't her breasts, or her eyes, or even her ass that did him in.

It was the striptease blush... The fact that she'd do one every Saturday night because he'd liked the first one so much, even though it embarrassed her. And every time she appeared blushing, but kept going, he felt that amazing mix of love and lust that he'd never felt simultaneously in his life. And it scared him. Scared him into doing inane things to keep her, like researching parenting and planning fake game shows and loving a kid.

House collapsed on top of her. She ran her hand over the flanks of his back and playfully grabbed his butt. "You have a nice ass too, you know."

House pushed up onto one hand and used his other to feign emotion as he put it to his heart. "That's like Thelonius complimenting my piano skills!" he said.

"Just shut _up_," Cuddy ordered. House collapsed on her again. "See how it feels to be objectified?" she teased, patting his rump again.

"Mm-hmm," House mumbled into her shoulder. "I'll never denigrate you again," he mumbled against her skin.

"That's better," Cuddy said, smiling at the ludicrousness of it.

"Just admit it," House urged. "A little part of you likes when I objectify you." Cuddy stayed silent. "Admiiiit it," House sang in a teasing way.

Cuddy raised one hand and held her thumb and index finger about a half inch apart, showing House that he was right, but also just how tiny that part was. House raised his head, looked, then flopped down into her neck again. "Good," he said, satisfied. "Now that that's settled, get your hot ass up, tie on an apron, and go make me some goddamn popcorn."


End file.
